


The Lord's Kiss, a sequel to One To Love

by 406ink



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Boatsex, F/M, Jon x Daenerys - Freeform, Jonerys, a little cheeky, jon x dany - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 19:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/406ink/pseuds/406ink
Summary: A sweet, cheeky little bit of smut and fluff, sequel to One To Love
Relationships: Jon Snow & Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 7
Kudos: 64





	The Lord's Kiss, a sequel to One To Love

Jon had crept quietly from the Queen’s chambers in the early hours, just before dawn’s first light began to wake over the horizon. He’d woken nearly an hour before, Daenerys cradled against his chest. He still couldn’t believe everything that had happened. He’d stood outside her door nearly every night for a week as they traveled from Dragonstone to White Harbor, knuckles hovering over the solid oak door, unable to bring himself to knock. Last night something had changed, and he’d said _fuck it_. Life was too short anyway, and now with the Great War to come, who knew how much time he had left – how much time any of them had left.

So, he’d knocked twice and she’d answered the door, clearly expecting someone else – probably Tyrion, her hand – but she let him in anyway. There was some inexplicable connection between them, a small seed planted when he’d landed on Dragonstone that had been nurtured over the course of the weeks he’d been her ‘guest,’ and after the Battle of the Frozen Lake. Neither of them could deny it, nor deny themselves of the other any longer. They’d made love that night – twice, before falling asleep tangled in the sheets and each other.

Jon had once held a deep trepidation about laying with a woman; having known what it was like to be born and grow up a bastard, he never wanted to inflict that on his child. While Robb and Theon and the other boys at Winterfell would visit the local brothels, Jon never partook. A fact he took a lot of shit for, especially from Theon.

Ygritte had been his first love, the first and only time he’d ever taken such a chance though she’d assured him if he pulled out and did not spill his seed in her, she couldn’t get with child. Somehow with Ygritte it hadn’t seemed that much of a risk; she was so wild and free, and amongst the Wildlings, being a trueborn or natural son did not matter.

But it was different with Dany; she was a queen - his queen - and she was the trueborn daughter of a proud house. Even the reality that he had been crowned King in the North, did nothing to change the fact he was the bastard son of Ned Stark – a fact he had chosen to wear like armor since Tyrion Lannister had counseled him outside Winterfell, once when he was feeling low. It was a reckless thing they did, in the face of the wars to come, and the fact that Daenerys was, in fact, so noble. He’d growled out to her that he was getting close, going to come, fully prepared to pull out and spill his seed on her firm, white belly but she had held him fast, hooking her powerful legs around his ass as his cock pulsed his essence deep within her.

She shifted in his arms, rolling over to face him, her hair tangling over her pillow, her face flushed with sleep, lips swollen and pink from his kisses. The quiet song of her breath the only stirring in the darkness. Somehow her hand found his under the pillow, her skin like the petals of a rose against his rough, calloused hand. He lay there for a long time, just looking at her and how the moonlight and shadows played over her sleeping form. He thought about what she’d told him several times now; that she could never have children and that the dragons were the only children she’d ever have. Perhaps that had been why she hadn’t been concerned with him coming inside her. Jon was worried enough for both of them, however. He could not, would not father a bastard child. And so, in the small hours before dawn, he formulated a plan as he watched her sleep, and crept back to his own cabin before anyone else was about.

All through the day both Jon and Daenerys were busy formulating plans for the defense of the Realm with Ser Davos, Tyrion and their other trusted advisors. There was much work to be done. Still, Jon found himself lost in thought once or twice, remembering her scalding touch. Once, Davos even had to ask him the same question twice, telling him to ‘snap out of it.’ He chanced a look at Dany then, and she quickly averted her eyes to the map on the table, a blush rising on her cheeks. When they’d paused for the midday meal, the seriousness dissolved into happy chatter and laughter, everyone busy eating and talking. It took the pressure off Jon and Dany to have to talk, and no one seemed to notice the sidelong looks they shared, or how their hands “accidentally” touched now and then.

When at last night fell and dinner had been cleared away, most everyone retired to their own cabins. He was surprised by the knock at his door, and seeing his beautiful queen standing there in her nightdress of flimsy white silk, a thin shift hanging off her shoulders. Her opened the door and stepped back, allowing her to slip inside. She immediately set to kissing him, and he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He walked her backwards to the large bed, falling together onto it as her the backs of her knees met the edge of the feather-filled mattress. She giggled – a light, silvery sound that reminded Jon of the tinkling of silver bells. “Take your shirt off,” she said softly, “I want to look upon you.” 

He obliged her, grasping the hem and pulling the black wool shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. He came down over her, putting his weight on his arms. She ran her fingers over his shoulders, back and down his muscular arms, letting out a happy humming sound. “Do I please you, my Queen?” he asked, cocking a dark eyebrow at her. “You’ll do,” she said, her face serious for only a moment before she dissolved into laughter. He smiled at her and kissed her lips lightly, nuzzling the side of her nose with his own. “You should smile more often, Jon Snow. You are quite comely, even when you brood, but when you smile …” she trailed off, kissing the line of his jaw up to his ear “… it shatters me into a million little pieces,” she whispered, her breath warm and moist against his neck.

A shiver went through his body, though he fought to control it. His rigid cock strained against the confines of his leather pants. He allowed her to kiss and lick his earlobe and neck, gently nipping at his flesh now and again, but when she began to suck at the flesh of his neck, causing his cock to jerk, he pulled back. “You keep that up,” he rasped out, “you’ll finish me before I even get started.” He graced her with another smile. She traced a delicate finger over his full lips. “You keep that up,” she mimicked, “you’ll finish me before I even get started.”

This deepened his smile even more. He bent his head to kiss her, swiping his tongue across her lower lip and dipping it into her mouth for a passionate kiss. He moved slowly down her body, kissing and licking her neck and collarbone, then turning his attention to her breasts. Even the barrier of her nightdress posed no challenge to him; he grasped the neckline with his hands and tore it in two. As his lips found her nipple, gently sucking the pebbled nub into his mouth and nipping at it lightly, she could not help but arch her back and cry out. She felt him smile against her breast. “Savage,” she moaned. “You fucking brute.” She felt a rush of moisture between her legs and squeezed her thighs together against the building pressure there.

Jon had never heard Daenerys curse. He found it sent a new surge of blood straight to his dick hearing her filthy mouth, playfully calling him a ‘savage’ and a ’brute.’ He would oblige her he thought, and slid his knee between her legs, forcing them apart. He halted his descent down her body to lavish attention on her breasts, his touch becoming slightly rougher as he palmed her breasts while pinching and pulling at her nipples until they stood out proud and hard. She thrashed beneath him, throwing her head back and moaning his name, “Jon.”

He moved lower, ripping the last few remaining inches of her shift apart to reveal her fleshy mons, crowned with a neatly trimmed thatch of silver-gold hair. Her lips were bare, and he could see she was wet for him, her juices beginning to trickle down her slit. Jon trailed his hand from her ankle, over her calf muscle to her thigh, then ghosted his palm over her sex, slipping his thumb between her moist folds. He sought out her engorged clit, and finding it, he worked his thumb back and forth over it until she was writhing beneath him, a string of incoherent Valyrian words escaping her lips on a breathy moan.

He slid his body between her legs, grasping her thighs and pushing them roughly open. Her eyes flew open and she tried to sit up, but he held her fast. Her eyes met his, and he held her gaze, also gifting her with a wicked grin. “What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly, sounding a bit alarmed.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he answered, his voice thick and husky with lust.

“What do you mean? There?” she asked, her eyes wide. Daario had sometimes touched her there, as Jon had done with his thumb to hasten her pleasure, but she had never even considered the possibility of a man putting his mouth on her there. The idea was shocking to her.

As though she had dared him, he bent his head and placed a soft kiss on her mons, keeping his dark eyes on hers, curious to see her response. To Dany, this was the single most erotic thing she had ever experienced. She had propped herself up on her elbows, and sat watching him, uncertain what he’d do next.

Jon used his thumbs to gently part her nether lips, and he heard her sharp intake of breath when he placed his mouth on her. She tasted both sweet and tangy, like a candied violet he’d once been given as a child. He lapped at her folds, alternately dragging his tongue from the bottom of her cleft to the top and flicking his tongue slowly over her clit in feather light strokes. Her hand came down to tangle in his hair, and it wasn’t long before her thighs began to quake around his face. Jon couldn’t have stopped, even if he’d wanted to. She tasted so good, and he was so turned on by the harsh cries escaping from her throat, the way she writhed beneath him and dug her nails into his scalp.

She came with a rush of moisture, coating his lips, mustache and beard. Jon felt her clit pulsing beneath his lips, and did his best to drink her juices, not wanting to waste a drop of Daenerys. A satisfied groan reverberated in his chest, as he increased his grip on her hips and buried his tongue as deep inside her as it would go. A secondary wave of pleasure overtook her, and her body shook with the force of her orgasm. Jon stayed between her legs lightly licking and kissing her clit, her body drawn taut as a bowstring as she rode out the ecstasy, bucking her hips up into his face until the last of the aftershocks had passed and she finally melted into a boneless puddle on the sheets.

He stood and unlaced his pants, then slid them down his legs and kicked them off before falling beside her on the bed. Daenerys floated back to earth, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks several times before she finally opened her eyes to look at him. She felt an unexpected tightness in her throat, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes, so she quickly looked away, not understanding full what was happening to her. “Dany,” Jon whispered, cupping her cheek and turning her face back to his, “love, what is it? What’s the matter? Have I … have I hurt you in some way?” His eyes were tender and full of concern for her.

 _Gods,_ she thought, _what is happening to me?_ “No, Jon … never … you didn’t hurt me. I just … I can’t …” was all she could see before she was wracked with sobs. He gathered her to him, pressing her cheek to his chest, pulling the top sheet up over them both. “Shhh,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “Whatever it is, love, let me take the weight of it off your shoulders. You’ve been carrying your burdens all alone for far too long. Let me carry them for you.” He held her, just held her, until her sobs became sniffles and at last, she drifted into sleep.

He lay listening to her quiet, even breathing; the fact that he’d found no pleasure long forgotten. His mind was extremely weary, but also extremely busy. He did not fully understand what was happening between him and Daenerys, only that he could not bear to be near her, and he could not bear to be parted from her. Both were agonizing. He knew that whatever this was, the timing was awful. The army of the dead was marching on the North. The Lannister army could be marching on them as well; he trusted Cersei about as far as he could throw her. And then there was the fact that he’d spent his seed inside her twice last night, and the possibility of Daenerys becoming pregnant. He smiled at the thought of that.

 _A child with Daenerys, with my Queen_ , he thought. In his mind’s eye, he pictured her standing beside the hearth in the great hall at Winterfell, beautiful and glowing, belly swollen with his child. It was the first time in many years he had allowed himself any such flight of fancy; he’d never dreamed of fathering children. As a mere boy, as a bastard, he’d thought the best he could hope for was to join the Night’s Watch. He’d taken his vow at 14, swearing to take no wife, to father no children. But all that had changed the moment his traitorous brothers had stabbed him in the heart. His watch had ended. Still, he’d never considered he would ever be anything more than a bastard, and what respectable woman would want to wed with a bastard? He’d never expected to hold lands, nor titles, never thought to be a lord, and certainly not King in the North. His mind rambled and buzzed down one rabbit hole and then the next, thoughts coming and going in no particular order.

Eventually Jon drifted off to sleep and dreamt wondrous dreams. He dreamt of the Godswood at Winterfell, covered with a fresh white blanket of snow. The sun winter streaming down through the red leaves of the Weirwood tree. Daenerys, gowned all in white, cheeks rosy from the cold and with a crown of winter roses atop her head, holding his hand as they said their wedding vows before the Old Gods. Bending down and pressing his lips to hers while their friends and family looked on. Everything felt so real.

His dream flashed forward to him, Jon, leaning against the stone archway leading to the Godswood watching Daenerys. His wife. She didn’t know he was there. It was spring, and she sat beneath the heart tree, skirts spread out around her, a baby with golden curls in her arms, as she watched two small dark-haired children play beside the pool. One of the children – a little boy with violet eyes – noticed him, and happily exclaimed, “Father! Father! Come play with us!” 

He was pulled from his dream by a banging noise. He heard Davos’ muffled voice, calling to him from the other side of the door. He struggled to wake, his body tired and sluggish, and had to fight the desire to stay there in the Godswood with her and their children. He blinked his eyes and realized morning had come. The room was dimly lit by early morning sunshine streaming through the windows, and he was warm for the first time in forever. He suddenly realized why: the sleeping form of Daenerys was pressed against him, her naked back curved to nestle into the hollow of his body. Another knock.

As gently as he could, he slid away from her and out of the bed, hoping he didn’t wake her. He tucked the sheet around her, then pulled the furs up over her. He put on his robe, tying the sash loosely about his waist. He went to the door and opened it a crack to see what Davos wanted. _This better be good_ , he thought to himself. “Ser Davos,” he rasped, then saw Missandei standing slightly behind him. He furrowed his brow. “Is aught amiss?” 

“Forgive me for disturbing you, Your Grace,” Davos said sounding slightly alarmed, “but the Queen can’t be found. When Missandei went to the Queen’s cabin this morning, she found no trace of her. The bed hadn’t been slept in. I’ve searched nearly the entire ship, and Missandei is becoming quite alarmed. Thought it best if you could do a second sweep of the ship, before we raise the alarm to everyone else.”

 _Fuck me,_ Jon thought. He opened the door and gestured for both Davos and Missandei to step inside, closing it quickly behind them. He gestured to the bed. Davos and Missandei looked at the bed and eyed Jon curiously, seeing at first only a pile of furs and mussed bedding. Missandei looked at Jon, then crept closer to the bed. She saw that the furs were rising and falling softly, and saw the Queen’s unmistakable silver-gold hair, fanned out over the pillow. She turned to look at Jon, who looked right back at her, unabashedly. Davos arched his eyebrows at Jon in silent question, to which Jon responded with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

Missandei, looking mildly annoyed, crossed to where Jon stood beside Davos and whispered, “The others will start asking questions if Queen Daenerys doesn’t show up this morning to break her fast with them as usual. What shall I tell them?” 

“Tell them that their Queen is too busy strategizing with the Warden of the North to break her fast. They need know no more than that.”

The three conspirators – Jon, Davos and Missandei – were startled by the strong, clear voice of Daenerys Targaryen addressing them from the bed, where she now sat up wrapped in a black silk sheet. To her, they looked for all the world like three naughty children caught planning a scheme to get extra pudding. She shared a knowing look with Missandei, one that spoke of many things. “Come, Ser Davos,” Missandei said softly. “Yes,” Davos replied giving Jon a look, “let us leave them to their ‘strategizing.’”


End file.
